Shell Game
by otherhawk
Summary: COMPLETE! After tragedy strikes Danny and the others must find ways of coping. But is everything as it seems? Slash.
1. Prologue

Hi there and welcome to otherhawk's latest project. This is the prologue of a continuing story that is likely to be five or six chapters in length.

I don't own Ocean's 11, 12 or 13. They are just some of the many things I don't own.

* * *

The thing that Rusty had to keep in mind was that there was no way in which Roy Blake was even remotely like Daniel Ocean. The fact that he kept forgetting to make allowances for this was seriously throwing him off. It was possible that working with Danny for so long had spoiled him, but his new 'partner' couldn't even pick-up on the signals they'd agreed on. Not quite what he'd planned for himself when Danny gave up the game for the life of a suburban house-husband. 

He stood in the doorway, trying to ignore the smell and watching Roy fiddle with the safe door. It probably wasn't a good idea to go stepping on any toes too early, but if the guy took much longer, security was going to come back inside to find out what was going on. Not to mention the wailing of the fire alarm was getting really annoying. His mind played around with a couple of early exit plans for a few seconds until a quiet 'click' and Roy's whispered "Fuck, yeah." brought him back to the present.

"Is it there?" he asked, moving forward and peering over Roy's shoulder.

"Man, there's everything here. I'm telling you Rus', we're fucking rich."

Yeah. Because it was all about the money. "Not what we'd planned." he said firmly. "Just the list."

"Yeah, sure. You've got no imagination though." Roy stepped aside, and Rusty poked his head inside the safe. There was plenty of interesting stuff in it, but even so, well, perhaps having fourteen million dollars of Terry Benedict's money had given him a different perspective on what 'fucking rich' really meant.

Fastidiously, he turned over a couple of bundles of stock certificates, and found the familiar-looking folder. At least something was going right. Flicking through the folder quickly, he checked that the disc was in place, before slipping it under his overalls. "All set."

"I'll get the alarm and swap the security tape, if you get the AC?" Roy said quickly.

Rusty nodded patiently. "Just as we planned." Given enough time, it was possible that the guy would shape up, he mused as he headed to the roof. Just had to be patient, that was all.

He managed to resist the temptation to peer over the edge to see if anyone was heading back in. Once he was through, he reached into the air vent, disconnected the canister, and put it in his toolbox . If he understood it right – and he did – then the chemicals should dissipate within ten minutes, taking the smell with them.

As soon as he stepped back inside, he noticed that the alarm had been cut off. Well that was a relief. Roy was waiting for him on the bottom of the stairs.

"Did you get it?" he demanded.

Rusty told himself that it was just _Danny_ that wouldn't have had to ask. It was just Danny that would have smirked and fallen in step with him. If it had been Linus, or someone, they'd have said something as well. "Yep. We're done."

"All right! Let's get out of here before someone catches us."

  


When they get down to the front door, Ms. Weber was peering around the lobby with a distracted look on her face. Rusty surreptitiously stuck a piece of gum in his mouth and went to meet her.

"Really, you shouldn't be in here Ma'am. Smart thing to do is to wait for us to give y'all the all clear." He grinned, just enough to show that there was no danger and was pleased to see her a blush spread across her face. He still had it.

"Well, Mr.. . . " he caught her sneaking a look at his ID badge, "Mr. Grant, I heard the alarm stop and assumed you'd fixed our little problem. And the smell does seem to have faded."

"Call me Jimmy, Ma'am." He smiled warmly at her. "And yes, we've fixed the problem. Nothing more than a slight coolant leak, spread right through the system. Smelt pretty bad, sure enough, but it coulda been a lot worse. It was quick-thinking to evacuate, and I'll be telling your boss that in my report."

"Thank you, Jimmy." She gave an almost-giggle, and Rusty worried for an instant that he might have laid it on to thick. The last thing he wanted out of this was a date. Fortunately she turned business-like almost immediately. "Now, I'm sure you have something for me to sign?"

"Sure do, Ma'am." He produced a clipboard and pen. "Now if you could just read this here….and sign there . . . and there . . . and just once more. Much obliged."

"You're welcome. Is it alright for me to get my people back inside now? Time is money, as I'm sure you're aware."

"It's the same all over, Ma'am. Yes, you go right on ahead. Me and Andy there'll get out of your hair."

They both glanced over at Roy, who gave a kind of disgruntled nod. They'd agreed that Roy should stay in the background as much as possible. "Andy's a little shy." Rusty confided.

Ms. Weber giggled again, and walked outside and past a small crowd of people who seemed a little disappointed that the show was over.

"Be seeing you, Ma'am. You have any more problems, be sure to call us." Rusty called, his hand on the van door.

"I'll make sure to ask for you personally, Jimmy." she cooed back.

"You do that, Ma'am."

  


Less than an hour later they were in a different car, driving towards the state line. It was a little early to be celebrating, but so far things seemed to be going according to plan. Taking one hand from the wheel, he pulled uncomfortably at his turtle-neck. Too bad he couldn't plan for the weather.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Roy looking at him. He wondered if the guy had a problem, or if he was forgetting something.

"What?" he asked, not taking his eyes off the road. They hadn't passed another car in ten minutes, but there was no point in taking too many chances.

"Where the fuck's the list?" Well, that didn't sound very friendly.

"It's in the toolbox on the back seat."

"You fucking liar. I saw you put it in your overalls." He wasn't sure whether Roy sounded more worried or angry.

"Yeah, and then I put it in the toolbox when we got out the van." Need to stay patient. Need to stay calm.

"You planning on fucking me over?"

Sure, that's what was going on here. "No," he said, slowly. "It's _in the back seat._ Why don't you check for yourself."

"Yeah, you'd like that wouldn't you." Roy sneered.

Give him strength . . . "If it meant we could drive to Phoenix in peace, then yeah, I would."

He could feel Roy glaring at him doubtfully for a couple of moments, then the man clambered into the back seat. Not what he'd want to be doing in a speeding car. He dropped the speed down to forty. He could be a nice guy, sometimes.

"Did you find it?" he asked, after a moment of listening to Roy breathing hard.

"Yeah, I did." There was a slight pause. Rusty found himself wondering how Roy would react to the suggestion that they stop at the next diner they passed. Then suddenly, "I'm sorry, Rusty."

He was about to say something along the lines of "Forget about it," when he heard the gunshot. He felt it a split second later. As everything went dark amid a screech of brakes and Roy's screams, (and what did he _think_ was going to happen when he shot the driver?) he finally realized exactly what it was he had failed to plan for.

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Thank you for reading this far. I really need opinions about this - how did it work for you? Let me know, and I will listen. 


	2. Chapter 1

Up until he came home and found his father pacing nervously around his living room Linus had been having a good day.

He'd spent the last few months working hard, developing his talents. Today, he'd had a method acting class in the morning, that he was confident was really going to help him with his cons. Then, later, he'd had a lesson in advanced safe-cracking from one of his mother's bridge partners which, despite the fact that he'd had to listen to a whole lot of stories about how she'd used to baby-sit him, had gone well. He'd spent the rest of the day, wandering around downtown, checking out the various banks and making a few, very obscure, notes. Not that he was planning anything, at the moment anyway. It just seemed a good idea to get in practice.

All in all though, he'd had quite a long day, and had been looking forward to a nice, quiet evening at home. He'd come in, thrown his coat over the back of a chair, walked into the lounge, saw his dad and leapt about a foot in the air.

"Jeez, couldn't you have knocked or something?" he asked, annoyed.

Bobby turned to look at him. It had been a long time since Linus had seen his dad looking that serious. "You weren't in."

"Couldn't you have, you know, waited till I _was _in?" he asked.

Bobby ignored him. "I need to tell you something. Do you want to sit down?"

Linus swallowed back his usual annoyance at his Dad, inviting him to sit down in his own apartment, taking over everything. This whole situation felt wrong. He'd been at his parent's for dinner just last night, and nothing had been wrong then. "What's going on, Dad?"

Bobby sighed. "We got in a report from California today. Seems a man was shot and killed after robbing Arnold Whittaker. Some sort of double-cross, they figure. The description was . . . I did some digging, and I'm afraid that it was almost certainly Rusty Ryan."

"What?" Linus was almost certain that he'd misheard.

"Rusty's dead, Linus."

Linus sat down heavily. "Oh, God." As Bobby kept talking, giving him more details and explanations, his mind went back to the last time he'd seen Rusty. He and the details man had worked together a few times, immediately after the Benedict job, when Linus had been desperate to improve his game, and Rusty had seemed at something of a loose end. The last time had been in Philadelphia, a fifteen foot iron sculpture, in a private collection. Linus had learnt more ways to scam his way into a hotel than he would ever need to use. And even more ways to avoid paying the room-service bill afterwards.

He'd also learnt the best ways to insinuate himself into other people's conversations, how to walk into any room and act like he belonged there. He'd learnt how to _really_ read plans and how to translate that knowledge so he could walk into the building and know where all the weak points were and, even more importantly, where all the exits were. If working alongside Danny had taught him to have vision, working with Rusty had taught him how to plan properly and think things through.

And now Rusty was dead, and that was somehow too large a concept for him to get his head round right now. He wiped his eyes and tuned back in to what his dad was saying.

"…I know he's retired, but I don't know exactly where. But you do, right?"

"What?" Linus asked, stupidly, feeling he had obviously missed something.

"Danny." Bobby replied, patiently. "Someone needs to tell him."

"What?! I can't." Linus blurted out.

"He needs to be told."

Yeah. Whatever the circumstances, he hated it when his dad was right. Rusty and Danny were . . . _had been_ . . . Danny had to be told at any rate, and now it was Linus' responsibility.

"Alright."

He'd have to tell everyone else too. It had been such a good day. Now he needed a drink.

  


The real problem was that Linus had no experience in breaking genuine bad news. He certainly hadn't been able to handle the thought of facing Danny on his own, which was why he'd made a few phone calls. Eight phone calls.

"You said it was urgent?" Frank questioned. They'd taken over a conference suite at Newark International. Somewhere, wandering around the airport, there was a confused group of marketing executives.

Linus cleared his throat, uncomfortably. He'd already had to wave off questions about his reddened eyes. It was just from flying. "Yeah, see it's – "

"Guys, shouldn't we wait for Danny and Rusty." Livingstone interrupted.

"I didn't call Danny." Linus said quietly.

"You didn't call Danny?" Reuben.

"Why wouldn't you call Danny?" Virgil demanded.

Unsurprisingly, Turk immediately turned to his brother. "Well, maybe it's something we can't tell Danny about."

"Oh yeah? Like what, smartass."

" . . . A surprise party?"

"You're such an asshole."

The Malloys continued arguing, Livingstone and Frank somehow getting involved. Reuben continued to demand to know why Danny wasn't there, while Yen looked from one person to the other, seeming faintly bemused.

"What about Rusty?" Basher was sitting next to him, so he was easy to hear over the argument.

"Rusty's dead."

The room went silent. Everyone turned to stare at him.

"What?" He couldn't see who had spoken. Not that it particularly mattered.

"Rusty's dead." he repeated, blinking hard, and looking down at the table.

When he looked up again, Reuben was still staring at him, incredulously. Livingstone was looking down at the floor. Linus could hear him sniffling. Yen was perched on the edge of his seat, looking round, as though waiting for someone to speak. Turk had his arm slung, awkwardly over his brother's shoulder. Frank was leaning back in his chair, staring at his hands. Saul had his hands over his eyes. Linus thought that maybe he was crying.

Basher was leaning towards him, eyes bright. "Are you sure?"

Linus nodded. "My dad got it from the Feds. Something about hitting Arnold Whittaker's place, and a double cross. They found his car. They're definite."

Basher leaned back "Rusty's dead." he said, sounding to Linus as though he was trying to understand.

Livingstone raised his head. "Who did it?" Linus had never heard that particular tone before and to be perfectly honest, it scared the crap out of him.

"I don't know." he said, honestly.

"We need to find out." Livingstone said calmly.

"You didn't call Danny." Saul broke in, his voice steady.

"I just didn't know what to say." he explained.

Frank snorted. "No way to say that."

Yen said something, angrily and kicked the table. No-one answered. Linus wasn't totally sure if anyone in the room had actually understood. Except they all did.

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I'd absolutely love it, if you could just take the time to review. Thanks. 


	3. Chapter 2

Not admitting that he was bored was taking up a lot of Danny's time these days. Fortunately he didn't have much else to do.

Somehow he had thought it would be easy. He'd thought that he'd be able to give it all up just like that. After all, he loved Tess. He'd assumed that was enough. But he realized now, that he had never _really_ thought of his retirement as permanent. On some level, he'd been waiting for Tess to say "OK, Danny. You've made your point. You can go back to work."

But she was never going to say that. She was happy. Or she would be, if they weren't constantly arguing over _nothing_. Actually, argue was too strong a word. He'd say something, and she'd purse her lips _that way_, and he'd just look away.

It wasn't all bad. They'd gone out to dinner two nights ago, and it had been just like old times, except that he really had made a reservation. They'd talked and laughed, holding hands by candlelight, until the waiter had thrown them out when the restaurant closed. It had been great, except then they'd come home and Danny had switched on the TV while Tess was freshening up, and when she'd come out of the bathroom, she'd just glared from him to 'I Love Lucy' and turned away.

They'd grown used to being apart, that was all. He looked over to the dining table, where she was catching up on some work, and smiled. Things would get better. He settled down on the couch and started channel hopping.

It wasn't like he had to pull jobs. They were doing fine, financially – Benedict was good for something, after all. It was just that he missed it – the excitement, the danger, the thrill of outclassing, well, everyone, really. He'd get over that eventually. Everyone missed work when they first retired. And he'd always liked his job a lot more than most people seemed to. Maybe he'd take Tess' advice and take up a hobby of some sort. She'd suggested golf, but Danny wasn't sure that the outfits agreed with him. They looked more the kind of thing Rusty might wear.

That was an idea. He could call Rusty, see what he was up to. Even if they wouldn't be able to work together, they could still spend time together. They didn't _need_ to steal now, and he wasn't going to break his promises to Tess that easily. Not this time. They could just take it easy. Like that time in Hawaii, when they'd spent six weeks in that hotel doing absolutely nothing. In fact, they'd only left the hotel once, and that was to get donuts. Mind you, they'd come back with a ten thousand dollar gold necklace, and the plans to the jewelers, but that was another story.

He was never bored with Rusty. Or if he was, then _they_ were bored and that was alright, because they could do something about it, that probably involved moving large quantities of money from one place to another.

Oh yeah. That was why he hadn't wanted to call Rusty.

The doorbell rang. "I'll get it." he said, stretching and getting to his feet, unhurriedly.

Tess nodded without looking up. The gallery was talking about acquiring a Dali, and there was a lot of work going on. Danny was doing his best not to be too interested.

  


He hadn't really been expecting anyone to be at the door. A few of the local kids had lately discovered the joys of ringing a doorbell and running away. He definitely hadn't been expecting to see the entire crew from the Benedict job (minus Rusty, but he'd already known that. Rusty wouldn't have rung the doorbell apart from anything else) standing at his front door, looking as if someone had outlawed money.

There was a moment of awkward silence, broken by Linus. "Uh, hi, Danny."

Taking their cue, everyone else muttered greetings.

"This is keeping a low profile?" he asked. No-one answered and Danny began to get a hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach. "What's happened? What's wrong?"

"Perhaps we should talk inside." Saul suggested, gently.

Danny led them inside, desperately trying to figure out what had happened to bring everyone to his door. They all looked – defeated, and he would swear that Linus had been crying.

_(And Rusty wasn't there.)_

Tess looked up when he opened the door. He saw her scowl on recognizing Saul and Frank, but before she said anything she seemed to see something else, and her expression went blank.

"I'll go and make some coffee, or something." She left the room.

Danny turned to the group, looking between Saul and Linus. "Are you going to tell me what this is about?"

"Sit down, Daniel." Saul's tone was the exact same one that he'd used to use a very long time ago, right before he would tell Danny and Rusty exactly how dumb they'd just been. He sat, almost automatically. Somehow, everyone managed to get a seat. It was when he saw that the Malloys didn't even argue over who was sitting where, that he really knew that something, somewhere was terribly wrong.

_(Rusty wasn't there.)_

Everyone looked at Linus, who swallowed, unhappily. "Uh, right. It's . . . I heard this from my Dad. There was . . . an incident. A shooting, after a robbery in California."

_(He wasn't there.)_

Linus took a deep breath. "Rusty's dead, Danny."

_(Not there.)_

"No he isn't." Danny said, calmly.

He could see the looks that were exchanged, but he didn't react to them. He heard Tess, in the doorway, heard her cry out, heard the crash of falling coffee cups.

"Danny – " Basher began gently.

"He isn't dead." Danny interrupted. "I talked to him just last week." Except it had been a little longer. "Two weeks ago." Longer. "Maybe a month. _He isn't dead_."

Livingstone cleared his throat. "Linus' dad checked out the reports –"

"Bobby's been wrong before!" Danny yelled. He forced himself to calm down. "He can't be dead." Not possible.

Livingstone carried on talking, inexorably "He was working with someone else. We don't know who, _yet, _but they hit Whittaker's place, and then something must have happened. They found Rusty's car, crashed on the roadside. There was a bullet hole in the driver's seat, and his blood . . . _Rusty is dead, _Danny."

No. "They didn't find a body?"

"They were in the middle of the desert, Danny." Even Frank was talking to him as though he were made of glass. "You know how that works." Yeah. They'd never find a body.

Reuben leaned forwards. "I'm so sorry, Danny."

And the world ended.

* * *

This chapter was really, really difficult to write, for a number of reasons. I could really use some honest opinions about it. Thanks. 


	4. Chapter 3

There were several reasons for Linus to be nervous. For one the ten – eleven if you counted Tess – of them were holed up in a hotel in California, providing a massive target for any of Benedict's people that might be looking for them. As far as he was aware, the goons hadn't been seen for months, but still. He couldn't imagine many other circumstances in which the risk would be worth it.

But that was the point. They'd all agreed that it was worth almost anything to find out what had happened to Rusty. Linus would never even think of going against that. It was his teammates that were really worrying him.

Basher and Livingstone were sat in the corner, talking as they had been for the last three days. Linus seriously doubted that they were simply catching up. If Livingstone's tone had worried him at the airport, that was nothing to the dark and brooding looks that he and Basher had been exchanging, or the quiet but urgent words. They were plotting, pure and simple, and they weren't sharing their thoughts with the rest of the group.

Two days ago, Livingstone had slipped out of the hotel for a few hours, coming back with a nondescript hold-all and a face carved from stone. Linus had followed him and Basher upstairs, and had managed to catch a glimpse of them peering inside, looking determined yet hideously gleeful before the door had been shut firmly in his face. He hadn't seen what was in the bag, but he could guess. He could know. And he hadn't quite decided how he felt about it.

Saul was worrying him too. Yes, on an intellectual level he'd always known how old the man was – he'd been a semi-regular visitor to the Caldwell house while Linus was growing up, and to the child Linus had been he'd always seemed ancient – but he'd never _looked_ so old. He'd heard people saying that Rusty had been Saul's student once upon a time. If that were true, he supposed that Saul would have known Rusty longer than any of them, except maybe Danny. Whatever the truth, Saul was taking Rusty's death hard. But then, they all were. Everyone was so quiet all the time.

Everyone was so quiet, except for Danny. And that was what was _really_ frightening Linus. After those first, frantic, denials (and hadn't _that_ been scary?) Danny had started acting . . . normally. Completely normally. He was smiling, talking, making plans - he'd even been cracking jokes earlier. If Linus didn't know how good a conman Danny was he might have thought that Danny really didn't care. As it was, they were all watching him very carefully, looking for any crack in the mask, waiting for the meltdown.

Linus couldn't help but wish he would just break down and cry, or yell, or something. Not that he could exactly imagine Danny crying, but anything would be better than this act.

Tess had cried She'd slipped away at the airport. Linus had followed, feeling concerned for her. He'd found her on a plastic bench, hunched over a framed photograph.

"I picked it up when we were leaving the house." she'd said, as he sat down. "I don't know why."

Taking the hint, he'd looked down at the picture. A much-younger Danny, in a rumpled tux with a white buttonhole, was standing next to Tess. She was in her wedding dress. They both looked relaxed and happy. Rusty was standing next to them, looking strangely out of place in _his_ tuxedo.

"Our first wedding. He was best man at both of them."

"You must have known him a long time." he'd commented.

"As long as I've known Danny." That was when she'd started to cry. He'd patted her shoulder awkwardly, until their flight was called.

  


The last three days had been spent gathering information. Everyone had been leaning on their local contacts. Linus didn't really know anyone in this part of the world, but he had been keeping in touch with his dad in order to keep track of where the local police were in their investigation. Apparently there had been no official conclusions as yet.

"So what have we got?" Danny asked, hanging up his cell phone. Linus frowned; Danny had been spending a lot of time on his phone without actually saying a word. There had to be some kind of explanation, but Linus had no idea what it was.

"Roy Blake." Virgil announced, marching into the room.

"You got the name?" Turk sounded surprised.

Linus glanced sideways, hoping that Danny was going to step in and defuse the squabble. Danny was just watching though, smiling slightly, and spinning a pencil between his fingers.

Virgil turned on his brother. "Course I got the name. Why wouldn't I get the name?"

"Well, as I remember – "

"Guys!" Linus found himself yelling. They turned to look at him. "Tell us about Blake."

"Local talent. The word is he's strictly small time, never did anything big until about a month ago when he started working with Rusty."

"Wait, this wasn't their first job together?" Frank asked.

"Nah, apparently Blake's been bragging all over town over his new partner who's gonna make him a fortune."

There was an audible snap. Linus half-turned his head. Danny had snapped the pencil in two. And he was still smiling.

Everyone seemed to be holding their breath.

"So where is Blake?" Danny asked, calmly.

"Uh, no-one I asked seemed to know." Virgil stuttered, then brightened up a little. "But here's one interesting bit. Roy Blake has ties to Theodore Ramirez."

"_The_ Theodore Ramirez?" Reuben asked, incredulous. Not that Linus could blame him. "The guy linked to every shady art-deal in the country? Arnold Whittaker's worst enemy? That's who Rusty was working for?"

Virgil nodded.

"No, that's who _Blake_ was _probably_ working for." Danny corrected, firmly.

"You can't be sure of that." Linus objected.

"Ru . . . _he_ doesn't work for people like Ramirez."

Linus opened his mouth to continue arguing – they still didn't know what had happened, after all, and it was too early to be dismissing anything out of hand – but he felt Reuben's glare on the back of his neck. Right. They weren't pushing things.

Frank broke the faintly awkward silence. "We checked out the Whittaker place. Easy enough – everyone wanted to talk about the robberies."

"Robberies?" Linus questioned. How many times could one place get turned over?

"Seems that about a week after Rusty hit it, five men in full black body armor, carrying guns marched into the place. Major compensation going on there, know what I'm saying?"

Yen said something rapid that Linus couldn't follow.

Frank scowled, having apparently caught the gist of it. "We were pretending to be SWAT, that's different. Anyway, get this, they head straight up to the roof, pull something out of the ventilation system and leave by helicopter."

"You think it's connected to Rusty?" Livingstone asked intently.

"Got to be. When he and Blake hit the place, they went in as air-conditioning repairmen. Got the whole building evacuated because of some sort of chemical spillage, that apparently made the place 'stink like a dead skunk'. Then they looped the security tape and made straight for the hidden safe in Whittaker's office. Rusty'd have had plenty of opportunity to hide something in the ventilation system."

"So Rusty double-crossed Blake? That's why he was shot?" Turk didn't seem to be asking anyone in particular. Linus frowned, that didn't sound quite right to him.

"No, they could have agreed to leave it there and come back for it later." Virgil answered.

"But why would they do that?" Good question, unfortunately.

"What is _it_ anyway?" Linus wondered aloud. "What were they stealing?" Everyone looked blank. Linus shrugged. "We should find out, right?"

"Right." Basher agreed. "Whatever it was, a lot of people seem to have a major hard-on for it."

"He wants them to know it was stolen." Danny said suddenly, sounding puzzled.

There was a pause. "What?" Linus finally asked, carefully.

"Off the top of my head, I can think of at least three – no, four – more subtle ways of getting into Whittaker's office. He's not stupid, he'd see them too. He wants people to be talking about the robbery."

"Why?" Saul asked.

Danny shrugged. "Don't know. But that means he definitely wasn't working for Ramirez, because it would be in Ramirez's best interests to keep the robbery quiet."

Linus felt uncomfortable; Danny was looking straight at him. "So, what, Rusty gets a plan, steals something from Whittaker, and his partner kills him and takes it to Ramirez?"

Danny shrugged again. "Maybe."

"Then what about the guys in black on the roof?" Livingstone asked.

No-one seemed to know.

A cell phone went off. "Mine, sorry." Reuben reached into his pocket "Hello? Yeah. . . . Yeah, we'd heard. How'd you . . . ? . . . . What? He did that? . . . What happened? . . . . Right. . . . I'll let you know. Yeah, I'll tell him. Bye." Snapping the phone shut, he looked straight at Danny. "Denny Shields says he's sorry about Rusty."

Danny simply nodded. "How did he hear?"

"Apparently some punk walks into Terry Benedict's office, says he's killed one of Ocean's 11 and he wants a reward."

Linus closed his eyes. God. "Roy Blake?"

Reuben nodded slowly. "Yeah."

"Bet Benedict was delighted." Frank muttered.

"Not really. He was looking for the more personal touch. Ordered his goons to take the little asshole out back. Except he got away from them. Strange thing is, he said he needed the money because Ramirez was after him."

"Ramirez was? Then he didn't get whatever they stole?" This wasn't making sense.

"Beats me. Now he's got Benedict after him too."

"And us." Basher said.

Right. And us.


	5. Chapter 4

Danny couldn't sleep. Not that that surprised him; he hadn't really slept since he'd heard the news. Instead he was lying next to Tess, staring at the ceiling and trying not to think.

_This was never supposed to happen.) _

It was almost half four now. In another couple of hours he could get up. Breakfast would be being served - there would be coffee - and he'd have at least an hour before the others appeared, and he would have to pretend that he didn't see the way they were looking at him. He wasn't about to break. There was nothing wrong. Nothing at all.

  


They hadn't made any real progress on finding Blake. After leaving Las Vegas the man seemed to have vanished into thin air. Fortunately Ramirez and Benedict didn't seem to be doing any better. Whittaker was in Italy, and it wasn't even clear if he was looking. Which was odd in itself.

Basher and Livingstone were getting impatient. Who would have thought that the two - well geeks wasn't quite the right word - would be the most bloodthirsty out of the group. Not that it was exactly surprising, considering. He knew that the others were looking to him to either put their plan on the table or shoot it down. But he couldn't. Just because.

_(This was never supposed to happen.)_

So instead they were going to be trying to reconstruct what had happened, hoping that that might tell them where Blake might have gone. Tess seemed to think that it might bring them – him - some closure, whatever that meant. Linus had insinuated himself into spending the morning going over the evidence with the detective in charge of the case. Saul was checking with his contacts in Ramirez's camp. The Malloys were going to carry on asking questions in the wrong kind of bars. Apparently they'd started four fights already.

Yesterday he had caught Linus with his mobile. He must be getting sloppy to have his pocket picked so easily. Still at least he'd immediately known exactly who to blame. Linus had been standing there, looking at him with an expression of pity. The phone was dangling from the kid's fingers, a voice faintly coming from it. _His_ voice. _His_ voicemail. Kid must have hit redial.

"I just needed to check." he'd found himself explaining.

"Danny – " Linus had started, and Danny had hated everything in that voice.

"I just called a couple of times." An hour. "I had to know."

"Danny – " Same damned tone.

"It's not up for discussion, Linus." he had snapped. "Give me my phone."

If _he_ was here, there wouldn't be these problems. They always ran interference for each other. He wouldn't let anyone see Danny as vulnerable. He wouldn't let anyone see Danny hurting. Because he understood Danny better than anyone. Even better than Tess.

He'd argued with Tess yesterday. It had been stupid, and petty, and he'd started it. Little grievances he'd happily ignored forever had suddenly been raked up. He didn't care what color the bathroom was painted, he'd never liked German opera, and he really hated eggplant, and if he had been with _him_, instead of pretending to be everything he wasn't, then maybe . . .

She'd asked if he blamed her. He told her the truth. How could he blame her? She hadn't been the one who'd abandoned him. Danny had left him, and now everything was wrong.

She'd gone quiet after that.

  


He looked at the clock; quarter to five. Oh yeah. There was one thing that he had to do today that could be done now. Let's see, with the time difference it would be . . . some time that wasn't the middle of the night. Time to call Roman.

That thing with the chemicals in the ventilation system – it wasn't something that he'd be able to set up on his own. He was good, but he'd need someone to make that kind of thing. And he hadn't gone to Basher or Livingstone.

He slipped out of the bed and crept out onto the balcony before making the call.

"And why are you disturbing me?" Roman' voice in his ear sounded slightly annoyed.

He took a breath. "Roman? It's Danny."

"Yes. I know." It hadn't taken long for Roman to get condescending. "Some of us can work caller ID you know."

"Have you seen him?" he asked, never doubting that Roman would know exactly who he meant.

Roman's voice took on a teasing quality. "Can't keep track of your own partner? You're getting old, Danny."

He was getting old. He'd retired. And he'd left him to . . .

"Have you seen him?" he repeated.

"Hmmm…let's see. Three weeks ago. In Santa Monica. Horrible place."

"Did he say anything?" Danny asked urgently.

He wanted a high level de-encryption program. Something that would copy and re-encrypt files without any sign that anything had been tampered with. Expensive stuff. Oh, and a chemical bomb for an AC system. I threw that in as a freebie. Since you've always been such good customers."

What had he been doing? "I see. Did he say what it was for?"

"I didn't ask." There was a slight pause. "Is anything wrong?" Roman actually sounded concerned.

Was there anything wrong? There was everything wrong. _This wasn't supposed to happen. _

"Danny?" Roman repeated. He sounded really worried now.

Danny hesitated for a moment then simply said "He's gone." and hung up the phone. Then he went back inside. The breeze out here was stinging his eyes.

  


Saul found him staring into his fifth espresso. He wasn't quite sure how long he'd been there, but it was almost completely light outside.

"Daniel." Saul nodded, sitting down opposite him.

"Hi, Saul." he replied, smiling with an effort.

"Do you know what woke me up this morning, Daniel?" Saul continued.

He shrugged.

"A rather disturbing phone call from that young Roman Nagel. He was quite worried."

Danny frowned. "I just asked him about the last time he saw . . . " he trailed off, uncertainly. "Why did he call you?"

Saul was watching him intently. "He wanted to know about Rusty. And he was worried about you."

Danny smiled, again. "That's ridiculous."

"No it isn't." Saul said sharply. "We've all noticed – "

"What, exactly?" Danny asked, keeping his face carefully blank.

"You aren't . . . handling things well." Saul sounded uncomfortable discussing this.

"Everything's fine." he said, flatly.

Saul hesitated. "I think you should talk to someone."

He got up. "I'll see you later, Saul." He didn't bother to explain that there was only one person that he felt comfortable talking to.

  


Danny didn't know how he'd spent the rest of day. He vaguely remembered sitting on the couch, staring at a blank screen, not talking to the man who wasn't sitting next to him.

Now they were all gathered in his suite again, reporting on the findings of the day. He'd already explained what Roman had told him.

"Makes sense." Virgil nodded. "I heard that it was a disk."

"And a folder." Turk added.

"Yes, but you don't need de-encryption software to translate a folder, do you?" Virgil retorted.

"You do if . . . "

"Guys!" Linus yelled. The kid was getting a lot more confident. "What else do you know."

The brothers looked at each other. "That was pretty much it." Turk said, finally. "Rusty – and Blake – stole a disk and a folder from Whittaker, and Ramirez is pissed that he doesn't have it."

"And someone called it 'the list'." Virgil added.

"Yeah, but a list of what?" Basher asked, frustrated.

"The locations of most of the stolen artwork in Europe, including the actual location of several pieces that, as far as the world knows, are still where they belong." Saul said, quietly.

Danny blinked. "That would be . . . useful."

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Tess frown slightly.

"According to The Other Benny, Blake went to Ramirez and said that Rusty had a plan to get it and sell it on the open market. Ramirez tells Blake to make sure he gets it." Saul paused, and closed his eyes for a second. "We know what happens next. Then Blake takes the disk to Ramirez, and they decode it." He stopped.

"And?" Frank prompted.

"It was Casablanca."

There was a blank silence.

"The movie?" Linus asked finally.

"Of course the movie." Saul snapped. "You think it'd be the city?"

"I just . . . you know what? Never mind. What happened next?"

"Well, Ramirez wasn't best pleased with Blake. That little fink babbled about being double-crossed then took off for Vegas. Meanwhile Ramirez sends in his people to Whittaker's, where he finds a second disk hidden on the roof."

"What was on that one?" Danny asked, skirting around the edges of an inevitability.

"The Blues Brothers." Saul answered, wearily.

Danny nodded, unsurprised.

"Dan Aykroyd was good in that." Livingstone commented.

Saul frowned. "Couple of days later, Ramirez learns that the disk is being sold on the open market."

"By who?" Danny demanded, hopefully. Was it possible that he was . . .

Saul looked at him, his expression half stern, half pitying. "By a guy in the post office. Seems Rusty had sent it out by internal mail from Whittaker's place. Anyway, by that time the word is out on exactly what's supposed to be for sale. Ramirez pays a fortune – "

" - and gets Thelma and Louise." Danny finished, turning away. Just for a moment, he'd wondered if this whole nightmare might not be just a mistake.

"How did you know?" Saul asked.

Danny waved a hand, absently. "Those are the three movies on our list of what to get first if we have to leave town in a hurry." he explained. Back then, even if they'd had to leave everything they'd owned behind, if they had a sofa, a TV, a fridge full of junk food and those movies, they'd be fine for a few days, at least. He missed that simple comfort.

Looking round, everyone looked blankly uncomprehending. "What, are we the only ones who do that?" he asked, surprised.

Reuben cleared his throat. "Thelma and Louise?" he asked, curiously.

"His pick." Danny answered. He really had odd taste in films.

"It's in _our_ DVD collection." Tess pointed out.

Danny frowned, not understanding. "It's on the list." he explained, again.

"But why?" Linus burst out. "Why the multiple disks and the movies? What's the point?"

Danny blinked; he'd thought that that, at least had been obvious. Looking around, everyone else looked puzzled. Ah. Must be one of those times when their plans seemed obvious to each other, and incomprehensible to outsiders. "Oh, he was driving the price up." he said, voice deliberately casual.

"Huh?" Linus still didn't seem to understand.

"A month ago, I'd guess that no-one knew that the list existed. By stealing it in such an obvious way, putting dummies out there, probably spreading a couple of interesting rumors – he'd be guaranteed a number of interested bidders." Danny smiled fondly. "He hates it when he can't sell something on. I'd guess he actually stole the list a couple of days before he and Blake went in."

Yen asked something, sounding frustrated. Danny didn't quite understand all the words, but he got what the question was.

"I don't know where." he admitted. "Maybe in a safety deposit box? More likely in a locker somewhere, or maybe a left luggage station. To be honest, we'll probably never find it."

"I don't understand why he'd do it though." Tess said, suddenly. "You've all got Terry Benedict's money. Why would Rusty need to steal this?"

"It's not about the money, Tess." Danny explained, wearily.

"Then what is it about, Danny?" she shot back.

"Everything." he said, closing his eyes. "It's about everything."

_(It's about who we are, and you're never going to understand, and he isn't here anymore, and I -_ )

Danny's phone rang, interrupting his line of thought. Local number. Not one he recognized.

"Hello" he said, walking away a little.

"Good afternoon, am I addressing Mr. Daniel Ocean?" Not someone he knew.

"That's me."

"Mr. Ocean, I'm Detective Matherson, with the San Bernadino police. I'm afraid I have some bad news for you." He didn't want to hear this again. "It concerns a Mr. Robert Ryan. I believe you are his next of kin?"

They've found the body. Oh, God, they've found the body. "That's correct, yes." he managed to say.

The detective paused slightly, and Danny realized that he should have seemed more concerned. He wasn't supposed to already know this. "Mr. Ryan is currently missing in suspicious circumstances. We suspect foul play."

Huh. He hadn't known people really talked like that. It sounded like the sort of thing _he'd_ say when he was doing his cop impression.

"Mr. Ocean? Are you all right?" Funny how everyone always sounded concerned.

"Yes, sorry. Can you tell me any more?" Danny blanked out the details. There would be nothing new there. In fact, there wouldn't even be as much as Linus and Bobby had found out.

". . . obviously we'll keep looking, but I'm afraid I would advise you not to keep your hopes up." Yeah. So he'd heard. But now he was hearing it from the police. So far it had been just a thing between them. Now it was official.

"Thank you, Detective." He hung up the phone abruptly. It wasn't like the man would call him back to complain about his rudeness.

There was a strange cracking noise. Mildly curious he turned his head to see that he had put his fist through the hotel room wall. Well, that was going to be added on to their bill.

"Danny?" Reuben's hand was on his shoulder. "Danny?"

"Rusty's _dead_." he explained, and wished he could cry.

* * *

I'd really love it if you reviewed. 


	6. Chapter 6

I'm sorry that this chapter took so long.

* * *

Linus had always hated funerals. OK, so it hadn't been a funeral, not really. There was no body of course, and it took seven years to get someone declared legally dead without one. But ever since Danny had got the phone-call, they'd all had the feeling that they should do something. A ceremony, to use his own word, although Frank had called it a send-off, Saul a wake, and Basher had referred to it as a bloody great piss-up Danny hadn't called it anything. Danny had hardly said anything for the last week. 

The function rooms of the hotel were currently looking something like the FBI's most wanted list. Linus hadn't seen so many criminals in one place since his Dad's New Year party. Mind you, he was also pretty sure that he'd seen at least a couple of Hollywood B list actors hanging around. Either it was true what they said about California, or there'd been more to Rusty's life than he'd ever known. He'd asked Danny earlier if Rusty had any family they should be contacting, but Danny had just looked at him blankly. It probably meant something that Rusty had Danny listed as next of kin.

It was funny. A group of people who took pride in their ability to talk anyone into anything, and at first, no-one had wanted to speak. Saul had made a speech, of sorts. It hadn't been that – _coherent, _but then, what was there to say? He'd talked about loyalty, and brilliance, about a ready smile and a downright evil sense of humor; but it hadn't been what Linus wanted to hear, and it hadn't seemed to be what Saul needed to say.

Afterwards, as he sat down, Saul had glanced sideways at Danny, obviously hoping that he was going to say something. But Danny, staring down at the almost-empty glass in front of him had shown no signs of noticing. In fact, Linus would put money on him not having heard anything that Saul had said.

Surprisingly Yen had stood up then and said a few words - quiet, impassioned, and incomprehensible words, which had managed to reduce Livingstone to tears.

  


It was easier later when everyone had broken into smaller groups. Without the pressure to say something – worthy – everyone was swapping stories and memories and drinking toasts.

"Of course, he was really young back then." Reuben was saying. "But he was always something special, you could always see that.

Anyway, he'd been running this game for nearly a fortnight – there was more to it than just the game of course, but that's another story – and this one putz kept coming along and losing big. College kid, I guessed, still looked like he had a couple of years on Rusty."

Not that that meant anything. Linus wasn't sure exactly how old Rusty had been, but he was pretty sure it was a few years older than he'd looked.

"So this time he comes in with a bucket load of cash and a girl, and he's telling her he's going to win it all back, and she's telling him not to be so stupid, that they need that money for tuition." Reuben paused, reflectively. "Girl had sense. Hope she didn't stick with that loser." he shook his head and carried on. "And Rusty's just sitting there, cutting cards and looking bored."

"Seen that before." Frank muttered.

"So it comes down to just Rusty and the loser. Loser's sitting there with two Aces showing - plus garbage - and he just keeps raising till everything's on the table. Rusty's got an Eight, a Nine, a Ten and the Queen of Hearts."

"Did he have the straight?" Linus asked.

Reuben just ignored him. "Like I said, loser keeps raising. Then he just looks at Rusty and says 'You don't have the straight' and puts a goddamned IOU for another two thousand on the table."

"And Rusty took it?" Frank asked incredulously.

Reuben shrugged. "Can't say what he was thinking. He took it and he folded."

"He didn't have the straight?" Linus persisted

"So, loser starts collecting his winnings, and Rusty tells him that he can't play there anymore, and suddenly the guy's going off on Rusty, saying he's just a sore loser."

Frank snorted scornfully.

"Exactly." Reuben nodded. "Then the guy notices that Rusty's spinning his last card between his fingers. And it's the Jack of Diamonds."

"Damn." Frank exhaled.

"Yeah. Loser's standing there staring, and Rusty just stands up, and slips the Jack into the guy's suit pocket and says 'Someday, some other guy's going to break your kneecaps.'. Then he just brushes past him and heads to the bar."

Chuckling, Frank shook his head. "He was too soft to be a proper villain, you know that?"

  


As the group broke up amid general laughter, Linus frowned; Saul was talking to a man wearing shades and a really bad wig. A man who looked suspiciously like that actor, Topher Grace, now he came to think of it. Confused, he crept closer.

"Yeah, I'm here incognito. I had to pay my respects to Rusty though. That guy was something special." Topher was saying.

"Are you on the run?" Saul asked. He fairly obviously had no clue who he was talking to. Though to be fair, neither did Topher.

"Just avoiding the cameras, you know what I mean?"

Saul nodded, wistfully. "Sometimes I think this is no life for a young man to get into." he said, desolately.

Linus swallowed, painfully and walked away.

  


He wandered up to a particularly raucous group and was shocked to find his mom at the centre of it, talking to Frank and Livingstone.

" – and remember that job in Cincinnati?" Frank was laughing. "Less than an hour to get the Mayor involved in an illegal card game. Wouldn't have believed it was possible"

"I remember how cute he and Danny looked in those Elk shirts." Molly smiled, nostalgically, before turning to Linus. "Hi, honey."

Linus managed to smile back. "Hi, Mom. What were the Elk shirts for?"

Molly and Frank started laughing helplessly. Livingstone smiled sadly. "They weren't actually part of the con. The guys were running away from the Mayor's thugs – which was part of the plan – except, somehow, they took a wrong turning and ended up in the river."

"They show up at the hotel, two hours late, still damp and wearing these Elks-on-tour shirts. Neither of them would ever say how they got them." Molly shook her head. "Such a long time ago now. I've still got the negatives, somewhere."

"Reminds me of the Tanzaki job." Virgil said. Linus hadn't noticed when he and Turk had appeared.

"Why?" Turk asked his brother.

"Well, just because of the water I guess." Virgil shrugged.

Turk snorted. "Like that means anything."

"I remember that." Livingstone nodded. "Must have been, what, three years ago? Danny was still inside."

"What happened?" Frank asked.

"Rusty had a buyer for . . . " Virgil paused, confused, then shrugged. "a lot of numbers."

"It was a formula, doofus." Turk snapped. "Something to do with plastics. Dumbass."

Livingstone sighed. "It was . . . actually, never mind." he finished.

"Anyway, while me, Turk and Rus' went in as part of a tour, Livingstone set off the sprinkler system by remote."

"Should have seen all those geeks running around, it was great." Turk laughed. Livingstone looked a little hurt.

"We had to split up, 'cos we didn't know exactly which room it was in."

"And that idiot gets caught - "

" - Oh, and you didn't, moron? - "

" - and just when they're demanding to know what we're doing, Rusty shows up – "

" – with the formula in his pocket – "

" – and starts going off at the head of the company about water damage to his suit."

"He's standing there, dripping wet from a sprinkler malfunction _he_ arranged, robbing the place blind, and _he's_ threatening to sue _them_."

Linus smiled. "Did they apologize?"

"You kidding?" Livingstone asked. "They gave him a hundred dollar check, there and then for the dry-cleaning.

Everyone laughed. Livingstone ducked his head and bit his lip. "I've never met anyone like him."

"Was no-one like him." Frank said, simply. He raised his glass. "To Rusty. One of a kind."

"To Rusty."

  


Needing to get away from the stories and memories, for a little while, Linus headed out to the balcony and stopped dead. Danny was slumped against the wall, a nearly empty bottle of scotch beside him. Reuben, Basher and Bobby stood around him.

"Hey, Linus. Come and join the party." Danny slurred, bitterly.

"Hi, Danny." Linus said carefully. "How's it going?"

"Great. Jus' great. Everyone telling tales." He reached for the bottle. Basher moved it out of his reach.

"I think you've had enough, Danny." Reuben said firmly.

Danny stared at his hands for a long moment. "He was my best friend, you know that?" he said finally, as though revealing a huge secret.

They made soft, agreeable noises.

"Always was." Danny continued, heedlessly. "I knew him before everything. Like those actors, you know? Heterosexual life partners. Except he swung either way, and I always wondered you know?"

Linus' jaw dropped, and he glanced, uncomfortably at his dad. Bobby, however, wasn't looking in the least bit surprised. Why was he always the last to know everything?

Bobby cleared his throat. "Come on Danny. Let's get you upstairs, and you can lie down for a while."

Danny staggered to his feet. "I should have been there." he muttered.

"You had no way of knowing." Reuben said, firmly, guiding Danny to the door.

"I just want him back." Danny said quietly.

  


As they slipped back into the room, Linus leaned in to Basher to ask a question that had been bothering him. "You know what Danny was saying out there?"

"You should forget about that." Basher said, firmly.

"No, when he said Rusty was – you know. Is that true?"

Basher gave him a long look. "Huh."

"What?" Linus asked.

Basher started to walk off, but turned back. "He flirted with you all the time during the Benedict job."

"Wait, what? Really?" But Basher had vanished into the crowd "Damn."

He spotted Tess, standing in a group out of which he only really recognized Yen and the Malloys. Someone should probably tell her that Danny had gone upstairs. Unfortunately it seemed that she was in the middle of a conversation. Best to wait.

" – well, the first time I met him was also the first time I met Danny. I was in the hotel bar after a really disastrous job interview. I have no idea what they were actually doing – when we started dating, Danny told me they'd just managed to negotiate their way out of a hostile takeover, but I guess that was a lie."

Personally, Linus figured it was probably close to the truth, if in need of a bit of translation.

"Anyway, Danny was a little drunk and in a really good mood. He bought everyone in the place a drink, and offered a toast to – and I quote – 'His wonderful, silver-tongued partner."

Yen giggled. Linus bit his lip.

"Well, yes, that got them a few looks. From me as well. Not that it bothered me, I just assumed that they were . . . so when Danny came over and started hitting on me I was a little surprised." She smiled, seeming lost in the moment. "He was charming and funny, but I had to keep reminding myself it was wrong. I suppose I would have caught on if Rusty had been hitting on girls that night, but he was just watching TV at the bar."

Huh. Maybe he wasn't always the last to know after all.

"Anyway, after a while, Danny said he had to go and make a phone call, and while he was gone, I went up to Rusty and told him that I thought he should know that his boyfriend was hitting on me."

"What did he say?" Turk asked, sounding choked.

"Well, he looked me right in the eye, and he started spinning this story about always having this problem every time they went anywhere. He sounded so miserable. And we kept talking, and Danny was gone for such a long time, and I was just about to suggest . . . " she coughed, suddenly. "Well, nevermind."

Linus had to turn away to hide his laughter. Fortunately, Turk had spit out his drink in surprise – all over Virgil, and the ensuing squabble managed to distract everyone for a few minutes.

"Anyway," Tess continued, when everything had calmed down, "Just then, Danny came back, and saw us sitting together. He looked a little surprised." She considered for a moment. "Actually, he looked a little hurt. But Rusty grinned at him and just said: 'Next time? Don't say we're a couple." and left." She paused. "I felt so stupid. And Danny was blushing. But it gave us something to talk about for the rest of the night. Mostly we were saying what a bastard Rusty was."

Even though the Malloy's were laughing, Linus felt slightly uncomfortable with what Tess had said. Somehow, in the circumstances, saying anything bad about Rusty, even if it wasn't really meant, seemed wrong.

Perhaps some of his discomfort showed on his face, despite his best efforts, because Tess carried on talking, in a softer tone. "It's funny the things you miss. I remember coming downstairs in the middle of the night, and seeing the pair of them sprawled in front of the TV, dripping ice-cream on _my _sofa."

She sighed and shook her head. Linus took the opportunity to whisper in her ear. "Reuben and my dad took Danny upstairs. He's pretty . . . upset."

She looked and him sharply and nodded.

Linus smiled his excuses and headed to the bar.

  


Basher was there, talking to another Brit, that Linus vaguely recognized as Roman Nagel.

"So have you got any leads on Blake?" Roman asked, and Linus immediately pricked up his ears. He'd been out of the loop a little in the last couple of days, while he'd been organizing this.

"Reuben heard that he'd been seen in Houston. We'll be heading out there as soon as Danny feels up to it."

"He's taking it hard." Roman commented.

Basher laughed bitterly. "You surprised? You see one of them, you ask where the other is. You ever hear about what happened the first year Danny was inside?"

Roman shook his head. "No."

"Yeah, neither has anyone else. For that whole year, Rusty just vanished off the face of the planet. No-one, and I mean no-one, had any idea where he was. Completely incommunicado. And I heard that Saul was looking pretty hard. Then, one day, he just shows up, leaning against the side of my car, with the blueprints for the Washington Mutual, like nothing had happened."

"He didn't say?" Roman asked, delicately.

"Nah. And I never quite liked to ask."

"Can't say I blame you."

Neither did Linus.

  


The party had wound down at last. It seemed to be just the crew from the Benedict job – minus Reuben and Danny, and, of course, Rusty – slumped at a table, a variety of empty bottles scatted around them.

"You know, this might sound awful." Turk began, then stopped.

There was a slight pause. "Say it anyway." Livingstone advised, finally. "We're all friends here."

Turk nodded. "You know what I keep thinking? I keep thinking about how we're never going to work with them again."

Linus raised his head. "Danny is . . " he began to object.

"You think he's going to be pulling any more jobs?" Virgil interrupted. "Nah, he'll retire for real now."

Linus kept his mouth shut, inclined to agree.

"It was always good working with them." Frank said, after a minute. "You knew what you were getting into."

"You knew you were walking away at the end of the job." Basher was staring into space.

"You knew you were walking away richer too." Turk added.

"They knew how to pick targets." Saul commented.

Yen said something in Cantonese.

"Exactly." Livingstone agreed. "Nothing was ever dull."

"Stealing the impossible." Linus muttered.

Everyone looked at him.

"Something Rusty said to me. You know how I was working with him for a little while after the Benedict job?"

Nearly everyone nodded. "Way I heard it, he was teaching you." Basher pointed out.

"Pretty much, yeah." Linus agreed. "Anyway, I haven't seen him for a few days, and I'm sitting eating breakfast in the hotel restaurant, when he walks up, steals my croissant, and says 'Today's lesson is stealing the impossible.'"

"What was the job?" Livingstone asked, curiously.

"Stealing a fifteen foot iron sculpture from a top floor flat." Linus said, as casually as he could, and was pleased to see several startled expressions. "They'd actually built the flat around the sculpture."

Turk exhaled sharply. "That _is_ impossible."

:"That's pretty much what I said." Linus nodded.

"So how'd you do it?" Saul demanded.

"Well, we knew that the owner was going to be out of the house for one night in a week's time, so we scheduled everything for then. Rusty got us the complete use of the flat directly underneath – something about a building preservation trust. It was a good story. We spent most of that week, pretending to do repairs. Had a whole load of scaffolding up, and removed the front windows. Then he sent me in to do some surveillance as a gas inspector. Mostly I had to plant a tracker on the sculpture so we could tell exactly where it was in relation to – "

"You took it from underneath." Basher said, shaking his head and grinning. "That's nice. That's really nice."

"Yes, well." Linus was a little annoyed at the interruption. "We sawed through the floor – which took a lot longer than you'd think, and was like a Bugs Bunny cartoon, or something. Then we put supports in place, lowered it down and took it out the space where the front window used to be and down the scaffolding"

Frank leaned back, lazily. "Would have loved to see that guy's face when he came home to nothing but a large hole in his floor."

"I almost wanted to leave the surveillance stuff in place just to catch that." Linus admitted. He sighed heavily. "That was the last time I saw him. He left the next day, to collect Danny."

"I hadn't seen him since Vegas." Saul said quietly. "I kept meaning to call, but I always figured a couple more weeks, just to make sure that Benedict's people were nowhere around."

Livingstone raised his head from the table. "Me too."

"There was supposed to be more time." Basher added, softly.

Then there was only silence and regrets.

* * *

OK, hands up, who was all expecting Rusty to show up at the funeral? 

Couple of author notes - first of all, before anyone mentions, yes, I know that Linus' mom's name almost certainly isn't Molly, since that's the one she was using in 12. But it made me think of Molly Weasley. A Molly Weasley with negatives. And it amused me.

Secondly, Danny's line about those actors being heterosexual life partners is in fact something Kevin Smith the director said about Matt Damon and Ben Affleck. Fourth wall? What fourth wall.

Anyway, what'd you think? I swear I'll get the next chapter up sooner than I did this one. Sorry about that again. I don't even have a good excuse. I'm just lazy and easily distracted.


	7. Chapter 7

Danny had never felt this lost before.

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He could just about cope with the crushing grief, the raging black emptiness whenever he tried to think about Rusty. He could manage, for the most part, and with the help of more whisky than could possibly be good for him, to suppress the overwhelming guilt that came from not having been there. It was the little moments when he _forgot_ that were coming closest to destroying him.

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Stupid things, like when he noticed the proximity of the hotel safe to the water cooler and had half-turned to tell Rusty that this was one time when Gossip-in-Spandex would actually _work_, before he remembered.

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Or when he'd torn a strip out of Turk for finishing the new M&Ms in the mini-bar, before realising that Rusty wasn't going to be walking through the door, looking for snacks ever again.

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It was just possible that he was cracking up. Certainly everyone else seemed to think so. He didn't know if they'd worked out some sort of rota, or what, but there was always someone there, watching him, talking to him, taking the bottle away and telling him that it would get better with time. As if that wasn't what he was dreading.

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'Nothing to lose'. Oh, you_ bastard_.

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And he was angry with Rusty for leaving him, and that was almost worse, because being angry with Rusty _hurt_. But he was gone, and what, Danny was supposed to content himself with his memories and a decade-old note?

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The note. Oh, yes. Saul had given it to him, the day after the funeral. A little scrap of paper, his name printed on the scruffy envelope in handwriting he would have recognised anywhere.

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'_All those things I never said? I meant every one of them.'_

**  
**

Apparently he'd left it with Saul during the monumental fuck-up that had been the Al McGhee job, when even their exit plans had seemed semi-suicidal. He'd never asked for it back afterwards. Danny knew better than to think that was accidental.

**  
**

And he'd be lying if he said it hadn't helped a little. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't read it a thousand times since. But it was only half of what he'd needed. He needed to know that _Rusty_ had known _Danny_ felt the same way. And that was insane, because if anyone had dared ask him before, he would have just laughed, because he'd quite simply _known_ in the same way he knew the sun rose in the east.

**  
**

But Blake had said that he was Rusty's partner, and that hurt, because no matter how many other people he'd worked with, _Danny_ had only ever had one partner. And though he might have been overreacting, he wondered if Rusty had realized what that meant to him. He wondered if he should have said things more often – or even at all.

**  
**

_(And he wondered if they could__ ever have been more than they were.)_

**  
**

Stumbling off the couch, he reached for the mini-bar. Reuben followed him.

"Danny." he said, warningly.

Tess and Linus looked up, from the corner they'd been chatting in. Tess looked like she'd been crying. So did Linus. He dimly remembered yelling at both of them earlier. Could have been a day or so ago. He'd been doing that a lot lately.

Ignoring Reuben, he pulled a fresh bottle out.

"Danny, don't."

He spun round, bottle in hand. "Why the hell not?" he demanded, belligerently.

Reuben made a pacifying gesture. "You need to – "

"I need to what?" he cut in. "Get over it? Get my act together, get to Houston and join in with Basher and Livingston's plan to murder Blake as slowly as possible?"

Tess gasped. Huh. Apparently she'd missed some of the finer implications of the last ten days. Had she really thought they were going to turn the murdering bastard over to the police?

"Maybe." Reuben answered, and Danny was pleased to hear the edge of frustration in his voice. "You think he'd want you to mope around, drinking yourself to death like this?"

There was a loud knocking at the door. Danny ignored it. "He's gone." he said spitefully. "What he'd want doesn't matter anymore."

"You don't mean that." Linus said, conciliatory as usual.

Danny rounded on him. "And what would you know?" he spat. The kid shrank back. Good.

The knocking came again. Must be someone else's turn in the let's-keep-Danny-company campaign. He stormed to the door and tore it open, fully prepared to scream at whoever was there, and he froze.

**  
**

Rusty was standing there.

**  
**

He could hear the others moving behind him, trying to get a better view.

"Oh dear God." Linus sounded faint. Danny knew how he felt.

**  
**

For an endless second, he stared at Rusty, his mind completely unable to take it all in. Rusty looked worried and uncomfortable in a way that Danny had never seen, and his arm was in a sling, and he had a black eye, and Danny could see the remains of a vicious looking gash on his forehead, but he was _here_. He was _alive_.

**  
**

**  
**

For the rest of his life Danny would swear that it hadn't been his plan. Yes, he had thrown himself forward, but he'd honestly just been going for a friendly, relieved hug. It had just been a result of his drunken lack of coordination that led to his lips being on Rusty's. But from there, it was inevitable and oh so _right_, and he couldn't even remember all the reasons he'd always told himself that kissing Rusty would be a really bad idea.

**  
**

Apparently it caught Rusty by surprise, because suddenly they were falling, and Rusty had hooked his arm round Danny's waist somehow, so that as they hit the hall floor they were still tangled together.

It made Danny wonder, in the very small part of his brain that wasn't busy being overwhelmed, exactly how often Rusty had been knocked over by an over-enthusiastic lover.

**  
**

After a time, there was a quiet, somewhat embarrassed, cough from somewhere behind them, and Danny remembered that there were other people in the world. Reluctantly, he sat up. Rusty propped himself up on one elbow and watched him.

"I was thinking the other day," he began, his voice gravely but pleasingly steady. "Do you remember that six weeks in Hawaii? With the donuts and the jewellers?" Just a little flash of normalcy. It was what he needed right now.

Rusty nodded. "The rainbow sprinkles."

"Exactly." he agreed, pleased that Rusty seemed to understand. But then, he always did. "I couldn't remember why we were there in the first place."

"We had to get out of the tri-state area for a while." Rusty said, casually.

Well, that almost made sense.

"And you wanted to grow a beard." Rusty added.

Oh yes, he remembered now.

**  
**

"Ah, boys?" Reuben said from behind them, sounding half-concerned, half-amused.

Danny attempted to twist round to check of everything was alright and nearly lost his balance. He felt Rusty's hand on his shoulder, steadying him. Funny, he hadn't noticed him move.

"Is there a problem, sirs?" He hadn't noticed the bellhop getting there either. Man, that guy looked nervous.

"No problem." Rusty said, smoothly for a man with a broken arm, sat in a hallway.

Danny grinned. "Everything's great." He said, expansively. "Better than great. Everything's . . . " He stopped, suddenly feeling . . . "Rusty?"

**  
**

Moving far quicker than Danny was capable of following, Rusty hauled him to his feet, put an arm around his shoulders and marched him into the restroom, where Danny proceeded to lose everything he'd eaten for the last month.

"I go away for a bit and you try and destroy your liver?" Rusty asked, quietly enough that only he could hear. And somehow, between the wry understanding in that voice, and the reassuring hand rubbing his shoulder, that was all the apology that Danny would ever need.

There was the sound of running footsteps and slamming doors. Apparently good news travelled fast.

"Feeling better?" Rusty's voice was low and amused in his ear. "Because I think there's about to be questions."

He stood up, managed a somewhat jerky nod and followed Rusty out of the restroom.

**  
**

**  
**

It looked like the entire crew from the Benedict job was there, plus Tess - the only person in the room not smiling. It took him a couple of seconds to realise why. It took him a couple more seconds to admit that he wasn't going to do anything about it just yet.

**  
**

Danny felt a tiny stab of what just might be jealousy as Livingston ran forwards and threw his arms around Rusty. He looked away, relieved that all it seemed to be was the friendly hug _he'd_ been trying for earlier. Reuben was updating Turk and Virgil on recent events, judging by the sniggering and the sideways looks being directed at him. He forced himself not to say anything as Livingston stepped aside and was quickly replaced by Basher.

"We missed you, man."

Whatever Rusty was going to say was lost, as Saul stepped forwards and slapped him lightly round the head. "If you ever do that again, Robert . . . " he threatened.

Yen interrupted him, pushing his way past the Malloys. "Where the fuck you been?!" Danny had to admit, he was kind of glad he wasn't the one Yen was mad at this time. For such a short person, the grease man was intimidating.

"Venice, actually." Rusty sounded calm. "I bumped into Roman about . . . " he looked at his watch. " . . . sixteen hours ago. He told me I was dead so I caught the first flight back."

"Whittaker's in Italy." Danny was pleased to be able to put it together, despite the fact that the room was still spinning a little bit, his mouth tasted like something was busy dying in there, and he had no idea if he'd ever be able to stop grinning again.

"Here." Linus was holding out a glass of water, and Danny had to hope that whatever he'd been yelling at the kid about earlier, he hadn't taken it too personally.

"Exactly." Rusty smiled, leaning his head closer in towards Danny. It was stupid that such a small gesture made him feel so warm inside.

"You sold it back to him?" Linus asked. "How much did you get?"

Danny could _feel_ Rusty's amusement at the question. Sometimes Linus could be surprisingly obtuse. "That's . . . " Rusty stopped and blinked slowly . "Oh. _Oh._" Danny recognised the note of dawning realisation._ "_Oh well."

"What?" Frank demanded.

Rusty looked slightly more embarrassed than Danny could ever remember seeing him. "I left the money in my hotel room. In Venice." he admitted.

There was a long pause, then Turk started sniggering. "Dude." he shook his head. "That's the dumbest thing I ever heard."

That, apparently, was enough to set everyone off. Danny was practically leaning on Rusty for support. "Hell of a tip for housekeeping." There was no way that Rusty would have sold something like that for less than seven figures.

"I only stepped out for a coffee." Rusty complained.

Livingston frowned. "You didn't check out of the hotel?"

"No."

"So you flew across that Atlantic without luggage? Didn't anyone notice?"

Rusty shrugged. "I picked up something at the airport."

Danny grimaced, remembering the last time they'd used the stolen luggage ploy. "Did you at least check it was a guy's stuff this time?"

Rusty laughed. Virgil asked "Why does it matter?"

"You try standing in front of a security guard saying 'Yes I packed the bag myself, Yes, those are my things.' as he holds up something lacy and crotchless." He had to admit, he was still somewhat giddy. That wasn't the sort of story he'd normally mention in a sober frame of mind.

**  
**

**  
**

"As fun as this is, I'm leaving now, Danny." He hadn't heard Tess sound so cold since before he went to prison for the first time. The others were looking away, obviously uncomfortable, and he knew that this was a conversation he should be having in private, except that he couldn't quite shake the conviction that if he let Rusty out of his sight the nightmare would begin again.

"Tess, don't . . . " he began, not quite sure what he was going to say.

"Oh, I think it's time." She looked pointedly down.

Huh. He was holding Rusty's hand. Couldn't remember when _that_ had happened. It felt – nice. He didn't even hold Tess' hand in public.

**  
**

And that was the moment when he could've done something. He could already feel Rusty's hand begin to slip out of his; he knew that Rusty was preparing to do his little fading-into-the-background bit so that Danny could spin a line about 'the heat of the moment' and 'it'll never happen again'. He could sell it to her. Maybe with time he could even sell it to himself.

**  
**

Instead he gripped Rusty's hand tighter. "I'm sorry, Tess."

She looked him straight in the eyes. "I thought you said you weren't going to lie to me anymore?"

That wasn't fair. "I'm sorry for hurting you." he clarified.

She laughed shortly and turned to Rusty. "I suppose in the circumstances it would be in really bad taste for me to say I wish you'd never come back?"

Danny opened his mouth, ready to say something – unforgivable – but Rusty squeezed his hand. Apparently it was all right. Who'd have thought?

"Tess." Rusty said gently.

She carried on talking. "Don't. Please." She took a deep breath and Danny remembered that he loved her, and it was awful. "Remember what I asked you?" Her eyes flickered sideways to him.

Rusty nodded, eyes serious. "I promise."

**  
**

It was more than a little unnerving that his wife and his . . . that Tess and Rusty had been talking about him.

**  
**

Then Tess walked out.

**  
**

Maybe when he sobered up, he'd regret not going after her. Maybe. He doubted it though. Yes, he loved her. It just wasn't enough, that was all. Couldn't quite compare.

**  
**

"So, what was with the bullet hole and the car smash? Was that all a fake?" Linus was good at providing a distraction, thankfully. He was a good kid. Bobby could be proud.

"Nah, Blake shot me." Rusty replied, absently.

Danny turned sharply; that was more distraction than he'd been expecting. "What?" he asked, keeping the edge out of his voice. For the moment.

"I was wearing Kevlar." He shrugged. "No big deal; well, it wouldn't have been if he'd had the brains not to shoot me when I was driving."

Right. It was only long years of experience that let him keep his voice calm. "You were expecting him to shoot you?"

"Not exactly." He could hear the hesitation in Rusty's voice; obviously he'd realised that Danny was a little – _upset_ – about this plan. "The plan was that he'd steal the disc from me, then keep a low profile while explaining to Ramirez why he'd brought him Casablanca. Meanwhile, I'm in Venice."

Frank snorted. "Low profile. Right."

"What?" Rusty asked, and Danny could see the switch coming a mile away.

"Blake walked into Terry Benedict's office and said he'd killed one of Ocean's 11." Reuben explained.

"Ocean's 11?" Rusty's voice was just a little too innocent. Danny could almost hear the smirk. "When did _that_ happen?"

"You know, I've been meaning to ask about that, Danny." Turk began. "It was just one job, so I don't really see where this proprietary attitude is coming from."

"Right." Frank agreed. "I'm an independent contractor."

**  
**

Danny stepped back as the argument started. "We will be having this conversation later." he promised quietly, looking straight ahead of him.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Rusty nod, slowly.

"You crossed the line." He let just a little of the pain of the last ten days bleed into his voice and when he turned around, Rusty had apparently found something fascinating in the newly plastered bit of wall.

**  
**

"I mean, who do you go to if you're in trouble?" Linus asked, apparently concluding something.

"Rusty." Danny answered, automatically. So did everyone else.

Rusty grinned. Linus threw his hands in the air. "I give up!"

**  
**

**  
**

Later, after everyone else had finally left, they stood in silence, watching each other for a few minutes.

"Well." Rusty said, eventually. He sounded exhausted.

"Yeah." Danny agreed. At some point they needed to talk. But not quite yet.

"Still don't believe I left that money behind." Rusty grumbled.

Danny shrugged. "While we're in Europe, we can always swing by your hotel. Maybe it'll still be there."

"We're going to Europe?" Rusty asked, teasingly.

"I thought you'd probably want to use your new knowledge of stolen artwork." He studied Rusty's face, looking for a hint that he'd surprised him.

"I sold the list back to Whittaker, remember?" Rusty was grinning, not seeming at all fazed.

Yeah. Right. Danny slid his hand inside Rusty's jacket, fingers brushing casually over his chest, as he reached for the inside pocket. He could feel Rusty's heartbeat. "What's this?" he asked, rhetorically, holding up a disc case.

"Oops?" Rusty suggested. Then he kissed Danny, and for a time everything was perfect.

* * *

Yes, he wasn't really dead. Everyone who answered 'He's not _really_ dead may have a cookie. If he had been, would have had a character death warning from the start.

Only one more chapter, which is going to involve seriousish conversations from Rusty's pov. And then, I was considering having a sort of bonus chapter that would have a few bits that I had to cut, cos they didn't fit into the point of view structure, or because they weren't quite in the right tone, or because they were total crackfic! Would anyone be interested in that?

So, how did this chapter work for you?


	8. Chapter 8

Well, this was finished the day before yesterday, but ffnet was being weird and wouldn't let me post it. Sorry about that.

* * *

Waking up to the feeling of Danny's arms wrapping tighter around him was probably one of the better experiences of Rusty's life – even if both of them were fully clothed. A quick glance told him that Danny was still asleep. Good. By the looks of him last night, he hadn't been getting enough rest.

**  
**

Without thinking he snuggled in closer to Danny's chest. OK. That was nice. In fact, that was better than nice, that was everything he'd wanted for the last couple of decades, but he had to be more careful. Last night had been . . . well the circumstances had been unique. Hopefully unique. And Danny had been really drunk. It was just possible that he might have a lot of explaining to do this morning.

Best to take advantage of it now while he could claim that he'd been sleeping.

**  
**

He closed his eyes, revelling in the warmth, and the feeling of Danny's heart beating against him. Everything he'd ever wanted.

**  
**

It was a couple of hours before he felt the need to get up. He disentangled himself as gently as possible but Danny still shifted and stared up at him with bleary eyes.

"Rus'?"

"Go back to sleep." he said, gently.

Danny turned his face into the pillow. "Light." he complained.

"It's morning. I can't turn it off." Hung-over Danny was always fun.

"Uhhh." That honestly didn't convey much to Rusty, but nothing else seemed to be forthcoming.

**  
**

He'd found the spare robe in the bathroom. As he put it on he mused on exactly how bad things must have been that it hadn't found its way into Danny's luggage already. There were some traditions that it was almost sacrilege to mess with. Still at least it meant that it was here for him to wrap round himself before he ventured out onto the balcony.

**  
**

Difficult to believe that less than twenty-four hours ago he'd been in Venice searching desperately for the best cannoli in the city.

**  
**

He'd been quite pleased to spot Roman sitting at the corner of the street side café, behind a large latte and a laptop. Having finally finished negotiating with Whittaker, he'd been at something of a loose end. Again. Seeing someone he'd recognised; well, he'd figured he'd be able to kill at least half an hour before he had to seriously start plotting his next move.

Roman had looked shocked when he'd slid into the seat opposite. With hindsight, it was obvious why, but at the time he'd just assumed he'd interrupted something semi-critical. And his injuries were likely to get a bit of attention.

Affecting not to notice was pretty much an instinctive response. "Hi, Roman. Mind if I sit here?"

"Not at all." Roman had watched him carefully for a few moments, eyes narrowed. "I have to admit, I'm surprised to see you, Rusty." He hadn't sounded surprised. In fact his tone had been pointedly neutral.

In return he'd kept his voice casual while inwardly wondering if he had offended Roman in some mysterious way that could only possibly make sense to a Brit. Or, slightly more plausibly if Danny had - they tended to get the fall-out from each other's mistakes after all. "Yeah, I'm over here tying up a few lose ends. That thing you got me worked perfectly by the way." Compliments nearly always garnered some sort of reaction from Roman.

"Of course it did. Though obviously not everything went so perfectly?" He'd been looking at the cast. Rusty had, in a brief flash of frivolity, considered asking if he wanted to sign it. Three girls had already tried to write their phone numbers on it that day.

He'd smiled easily, thinking that perhaps all the weirdness was merely Roman's way of showing concern. "It looks worse than it is. I'm fine, really."

Roman had spoken very slowly and softly, watching him carefully until he had taken a sip of his newly-arrived coffee. "Well, that's good. That's very good. Because I was at your funeral two days ago."

Of course, he'd spat the coffee out all over the table. "_What_?"

Roman had relaxed ever so slightly then, handing him a napkin. Thinking about it, maybe he'd been worried that Rusty had been trying to fake his own death. "Apparently you were murdered by – "

He'd already figured that part. " – Roy Blake. Fuck."

"Oh you do know him? Well that's something I suppose." Roman had smiled, casually adding "I understand he's not long for this world."

By that time Rusty had been thinking of more important things. " . . . Was he there?"

"Who?" Roman had asked innocently.

"Roman." There had definitely been an edge to his voice at that point.

Roman, naturally, had carried on regardless. "Oh, are you by any chance referring to Daniel Ocean? Your best friend and partner since before the dawn of time? The man you lo – "

"Roman!"

"Of course he was there." There had almost been an expression of sympathy in Roman's eyes at that, concealed beneath several layers of superiority and condescension, of course. "You might want to think about telling him you're not dead."

By the time he'd said that though, Rusty had already been on his feet, scanning the streets in search of a taxi.

**  
**

It could be arrogance, but the moment he'd heard that he was presumed dead he'd been – _worried_ – about Danny's reaction. He couldn't help but imagine how he would feel if Danny were dead. Unfortunately he'd always had a very good imagination. That was why he'd raced to the airport and bought the last seat on the next flight home. It had been in Economy and he hadn't even scammed or flirted his way into a free upgrade. It wasn't as though he was a snob, but the last time he'd flown Economy had been . . . actually he didn't think he'd ever flown Economy. By the time they'd been making enough to look at air travel as a serious option, Business had been the only way to go.

He'd spent the entire journey trying to convince himself that he was overreacting. That Danny wouldn't have fallen apart. That they really were different enough that his death wouldn't end Danny's world in the way that Danny's would end his.

**  
**

Sometimes it hurt to be wrong.

**  
**

**  
**

A series of muffled thumps from inside the room attracted his attention. Danny must have woken up.

"Rusty!" Sounded urgent.

"Out here." he called back.

Danny burst through the door a couple of seconds later, still dressed in the clothes he was wearing yesterday, hair sticking up all over the place. He skidded to a halt and stared at Rusty for a few moments. "I wasn't – "

"Freaking out?" Rusty supplied.

"Yeah." He joined Rusty leaning against the barrier. "I wasn't doing that."

They stood in silence for a few minutes; Rusty wondering what the cost of making a move would be if everything was off.

"I thought you were dead." Danny said finally.

Rusty looked round but said nothing. He couldn't quite see where this was going but he already felt guilty.

Danny stared out over the edge. "This morning, I thought you were dead."

OK. That wasn't good.

"I woke up and you weren't there, and I thought . . . " he shrugged.

Without thinking Rusty reached out and placed his hand on top of Danny's. "I'm alive." he said quietly.

Danny turned round and smiled at him and Rusty's heart skipped a beat. He felt like he was sixteen again. "Good. And just so we're clear? You're not allowed to die again." And then he leaned forward and kissed him and Rusty knew that everything was going to be all right.

**  
**

"Oh jeez." Wasn't that Linus? That sounded like Linus. Stepping back from Danny for a moment, he looked round. Yep, Linus was standing on the next balcony along, looking pointedly away from them.

"Morning, Linus." Danny said smoothly.

Rusty grinned and waved.

"It's not that I . . . I mean, you know I'm not . . . " Linus seemed to be struggling. "Can't you get a room?"

"This is our room." Danny pointed out.

Well, actually it was Danny and Tess' room, but Rusty didn't feel like pointing that out. "Actually it's a balcony." he said to Danny, loudly enough for Linus to hear.

"Well, I don't think – " Danny began

Rusty shrugged. "Sure, if you want to look at it like that."

"Yeah, I do." Danny nodded.

"Well then. Breakfast?"

"As long as you put on something more than that bathrobe." Danny headed to the door. "See you later Linus."

"Bye." Rusty grinned. Linus was still staring at them.

**  
**

Dressed in yesterday's pants and the only shirt in Danny's wardrobe that didn't offend his own unique sense of aesthetics, Rusty studied the hotel restaurant's breakfast menu. The moment they'd sat down a waiter had brought Danny what looked like a quadruple espresso. He carefully hadn't commented. He knew Danny after all. He knew, without asking, about sleepless nights and the lengths they were prepared to go to preserve normality.

It had been a relief when Danny had asked for a cappuccino instead though.

"I need to go shopping today." he commented, before ordering the greasiest fry-up on the menu. So many ways to play with hung-over Danny.

Danny simply raised an eyebrow and didn't comment on his choice. "I think it looks good on you."

He smirked. "Better than it does on you." he teased.

Danny just shrugged slightly. "Where are we going to hit first?"

"Haven't had time to study the list too much, but I noticed one place in Italy. Guy's got a couple of Turners, a Da Vinci sketch and a Goya."

Danny looked surprised. Rusty couldn't blame him; that would be some haul. "And he's not supposed to – "

"Nope." All of those pieces were officially somewhere else.

"No repercussions." Danny mused.

"No legal repercussions." he corrected. Always an important distinction to make.

**  
**

There was something he had to find a way to lead into. And he really didn't want to. He caught himself rubbing at the corner of his mouth. Had to stop doing that – Danny always noticed. "Tess likes Goya, doesn't she?" His voice sounded a little too casual to him.

Danny frowned. "Yeah, why?"

"Thought she might like it as a present." There. Casual, sincere and not at all insecure. He leaned back in his chair with his very best air of disinterest.

Danny stared at him with _his_ very best air of incredulity. Difference was, Rusty was pretty sure Danny's was genuine. "Well, I can see two problems with that." he said at last. "Firstly, Tess doesn't want a stolen painting." Hmm. He hadn't thought of that. Mostly because since neither of them had ever had a legit job, everything that Danny had ever given Tess had been stolen, or bought with stolen money at least. "And secondly," Danny continued, "I'm not getting back together with her."

"As your friend I think I should be talking you out of ending your marriage on the basis of one drunken kiss." He tried to look into Danny's eyes, like he would if he was selling any other line to any other mark, but he found himself staring down at the ink lines on his forearm instead.

There was a silence. He could feel Danny watching him, but when he looked up, Danny had glanced away. "I should have kissed you twenty years ago." he said offhandedly.

He felt a grin spread slowly across his face. That was something he could accept.

**  
**

The waiter brought their food over. Rusty looked from his full plate to Danny's half-grapefruit and smirked. To his amusement, Danny looked a little bit ill, and a little bit envious.

Ohhh, that tasted good. Just what he needed. He closed his eyes; those eggs were amazing.

Danny was staring at him.

"What?" he asked innocently.

"You normally only make those noises over dessert." He sounded amused.

Rusty shrugged and reached for a napkin. "Been a while since I've eaten. I missed dinner yesterday. And lunch come to think of it. In fact, by the time the plane landed it was lunch again, so I missed it twice."

"Glad to hear I mean so much to you." Danny actually sounded sincere and Rusty gave him a reassuring look before continuing.

"The last thing I had was that cannoli. And I didn't finish it. Actually, I didn't pay for it. I left Roman with the bill."

Danny shook his head sadly. "You know he's going to add that on the next time we pay him."

"With interest." He had a vivid mental image of Roman demanding ten thousand dollars per day, plus twenty-two and a half cannolis.

Danny chuckled, seeming to share the same thought. There was a brief silence.

**  
**

"He said he was your partner." Danny said suddenly.

Well, they weren't talking about Roman anymore. "He was a mark." Rusty pointed out.

Danny nodded, but still seemed unsettled. "I've never – "

"I know." he interrupted quietly. "He said it, not me."

That was one lie he'd never told. That was one lie he never could tell.

The silence stretched out.

"Look. If he thought he could replace – " he made a vague gesture, knowing that Danny could see it encompass everything " – then he was an idiot."

"He shot you."

"And he shot me." Rusty agreed. He leaned forwards and looked Danny straight in the eyes. "I didn't know he was going to shoot me."

Danny didn't look convinced. "But you wore the vest."

"Would you rather I hadn't?" He winced internally at the brief flash of devastation that crossed Danny's face. "Shit, I'm sorry." He paused to gather his thoughts. "I didn't know for definite that he was going to shoot me. I set him up to double cross me, because I needed Ramirez to drive the price up."

Danny looked like he didn't quite think that was reason enough.

"I knew he had a gun. I was expecting him to threaten me into handing the list over, but just in case I wore the vest. Which was fortunate, because the idiot shot me in the back while I was driving, then ran away from the wreck."

**  
**

He didn't mention that when the bullet hit the Kevlar it had felt like he'd been hit in the back with a sledge hammer. He certainly didn't mention that when he had woken up, slumped over the steering wheel, it had only been the pain that had convinced him he wasn't dead.

**  
**

"So I got patched up at the nearest ER and headed to Venice."

**  
**

As he had staggered away from the car, his first thought had been to call Danny. The only reason that he hadn't was that his cell phone had been smashed beyond repair. He could have saved Danny a lot of anguish if he'd just kept with his instinct; used a payphone at the hospital or something. Even if he'd been a bit less cautious and had used his own name for the flight, or at the ER. They could have tracked him. They could have known he was alive.

**  
**

"And that's about it." he shrugged.

**  
**

Danny looked at him for almost a full minute before saying quietly "You crossed the line."

"I know." He did. This whole thing with Whittaker and Ramirez – it wasn't the way he would have played it if Danny had been there. With nothing important hanging in the balance – when the only stake was money - well, there was a limit to how far even they should go. But when Danny wasn't there, when he was alone and bored, it got harder to see just where the line was.

The silence that followed could almost be described as uncomfortable. Almost

**  
**

"It wasn't just you." Danny said suddenly. "Most of it was, but . . . " he shrugged.

Rusty recognised the tone. "You were bored." he stated.

"Retirement." Danny spread his arms helplessly. "She wanted me to change."

And he couldn't, Rusty knew. "Compromise is supposed to be the key to any good relationship." He'd read that in a magazine on the plane.

"She suggested I take up golf."

OK, that might be a compromise too far. "Three thousand people die on golf courses in a year." he said casually.

"Huh." Danny answered slowly, appearing to take this seriously. "How many die stealing pre-stolen art?"

He pursed his lips. "It's got to be less, right?" he finally answered.

Danny nodded "That's what I thought."

**  
**

Rusty was distracted momentarily by the sight of Saul, Reuben, Linus and Basher walking up behind Danny. He was just about to say 'Hi' when Danny looked over at him, smiled teasingly and said in a low voice. "You know, I started to question my sexuality the first time I saw you crack a safe."

"Why am I always walking into these things?" Linus sounded slightly unhappy. Reuben, on the other hand, looked extremely happy judging by the amused smirk he was wearing; while Saul was glowering at them in a distinctly non-threatening manner.

Danny shot him a meaningful look. He offered a quick half-smile in return. It was a good thing that neither of them were prone to blushing. "Morning" he said, easily.

Basher slid into the seat next to Danny. "You know, that might be the worst line I've ever heard." he said, conversationally.

"Have you _seen_ him working on a safe?" Danny returned.

"Good point." Basher agreed thoughtfully. OK. The way they both turned to look at him was a little worrying. As was the way Reuben was sniggering.

Linus was looking desperate to change the subject, something Rusty had full sympathy with. "Basher said you were flirting with me during the Benedict job." he blurted out. The kid really had to learn to think before he spoke, even when he wasn't working.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Danny's expression switch to impassive. He would have been worried, if he hadn't known full well that that particular blank look meant that Danny was trying not to laugh.

He gave Linus his full attention. "Well, I'm kind of seeing someone right now." he pointed out, with the full knowledge that Linus had meant nothing of the sort. "I'm flattered though."

"You know I wasn't thinking that." Linus protested. "It was just in my head."

"Definitely flattered." Danny answered laughingly, saving him the trouble.

Saul cleared his throat. "I'm heading home today."

"Me too." Linus said quickly.

"Yeah." Basher and Reuben both nodded. "I think most people are."

Made sense; everyone had put their lives on hold. "We're probably sticking around for a couple of days." Danny said. "They hadn't discussed it, but that had been what Rusty had been assuming too. Not least because he couldn't face the thought of another trans-Atlantic flight too soon.

"Where you hitting first?" Reuben asked.

Well, that was just great. "Doesn't anyone believe that I sold the list to Whittaker without taking a copy?" he asked, plaintively.

Saul snorted in disbelief. "No."

He grinned and shook his head. "Some place near Lake Como. Owned by a French aristocrat, if you can believe that. Some very interesting stuff."

"Won't be for a few weeks yet." Danny pointed out, with a meaningful look at his cast. Rusty met his eyes for an infinite, wonderful moment and found himself smiling like an idiot.

**  
**

When he finally looked away, Linus was looking embarrassed while Saul was looking stern, and Rusty got the distinct impression that he was trying to figure out which of them to offer fatherly advice to and which to threaten. Reuben was still looking incredibly amused. Some things just don't change.

Basher shook his head. "That's going to take some getting used to." Rusty shrugged. Danny was looking non-committal. "I mean, things are going to change, right?"

"Of course." Danny said immediately. Rusty turned to look at him, surprised. He hadn't actually thought of things changing. Other than the fact that they now had an interesting alternative to watching TV. It wasn't as if he could possibly love Danny any more than he already did. "I mean" Danny continued with a grin "From now on, we'll only need to scam one hotel room."

**  
**

Rusty smiled. Everything was going to work out perfectly.

* * *

And that, my friends, is finally the end. Well, apart from the bonus chapter I mentioned earlier. 

I meant to say - I try to reply to all reviewers individually, but for those who I might have missed, or for anonymous reviewers - a HUGE thank you. You have no idea what it means to me that you take that time.


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